


party all night

by Voidromeda



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Minor Character Death, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-12 23:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19239037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidromeda/pseuds/Voidromeda
Summary: J.D doesn't mean to keep looking at his new neighbour.but he just can't stop himself.





	party all night

He doesn’t mean to watch her, ~~except he does.~~ He doesn’t mean for it to happen – it isn’t like he plans it this way. He doesn’t have curtains; instead, he has thick blinds, and his nightmare just happens to have curtains that she always, always leaves open. Not even halfway so that she can hide, no; he sees her every waking moment of her life, his life, and J.D really, _really_ doesn’t mean to watch her.

But it is one of the few things that keeps him sane, especially now that _Big Budd Dean_ is so unfortunately dead. His money burns his fingertips, but J.D can’t complain – especially not when it allows him to stay in one place, in the middle of nothing Sherwood, Ohio where everyone knows everyone – and it is by careless, negligent grace that he lives on his own after calling the police.

A terrible case of suicide, his poor father of his, though now that means he doesn’t have to leave here.

But he still doesn’t mean to watch her. It just _happens._ He sits right at his desk to study, with his blinds open enough for him to peek out, and she isn’t always in her room – most of the times she is, but not always – but he still watches.

He has never fallen more in love with the sight of someone’s back than he has hers. He doesn’t know her name, can’t ever hear her mother or father calling her down because she keeps her windows shut, but he can imagine. Amanda? Selina? Serah? Anna? Annie? Amanda? He goes through every female name he knows in his head, and he can’t think of a single one that fits her.

The blinds are one of the best, accidental gifts his father gives to him beyond the grave, and J.D needs to stop looking. He needs to stop staring.

[ ~~he writes a journal of her habits instead.~~ ]

* * *

They arrive at Sherwood, Ohio just a few days before spring vacation starts. It isn’t the first time he travels to another school in the middle of the year, it is always just a manner of when it will happen. The school tries its best to supply him with the curriculum and what he misses because of moving, though J.D just throws it all away because a quick lookover tells him that he isn’t missing much.

He sees her the day school starts, in the cafeteria, and his heart leaps up to his throat. He sees her standing with the popular girls – the one he hears people whispering and gossiping about – and his mouth goes dry. _‘Heather?’_ he thinks almost frantically, trying the name out on her and her face, her black hair, her wide eyes, the disillusionment in her behaviour, and finds he dislikes the acrid taste that follows.

Her eyes fall on him after the Heathers make her do something, and he can hear the way her breath hitches all the way from his corner. She looks down then back up, a shy smile dancing on her lips that is quick to fade when the red-scrunchie  Heather drags her away again with a clipboard in hand. Yellow and Green Heather just sit by the sidelines, watching them both with blank gazes and emptier brains, and J.D tries not to let disappointment taint him.

But when the resident victim of the school gets laughed at out of the cafeteria is when he sees that spark, snap, sting of overwhelming humanity in her eyes. Her teeth dig into her lower lip, her brows furrow, and she turns around as quick as lightning to run away from the mess she is the reason of.

He doesn’t expect her to approach him with her coy smile and Heather’s clipboard in her arms, her name on the tip of her tongue and a stupid question dripping like poison out of her mouth. He answers her nonetheless, just to see the way she grins and revel in the blush that paints her cheeks a bright red. He aches; he wants to take her and stuff her up, shove her in a freezer, and preserve her forever.

“ _VERONICA,”_ the Heather leader calls out, her voice a hiss between her teeth and her eyes flashing darkly at the sight of him, “we have to go now. Leave Jesse James here behind.”

She can’t even say goodbye before Heather nearly tears her arm off in her attempt to drag her away. He doesn’t see her again the rest of the day after the little stunt he pulls off; the principal looks at him disapprovingly but relents when he remembers that J.D’s father is dead. His severe face softens, makes him look less of an Italian gangster from the nineteen-twenties and more like a tired, old man. He lets him off with a warning and sends him back home with a half-hearted attempt at being stern. The first thing he does upon coming back home is to write in his own diary, just like Veronica (Veronica, Veronica – it suits her, what a perfect name, he writes it down tens of times in his diary) and writes down his encounter with her.

He writes down everything in painstaking detail – the curl of her lips, the dimples that appear, the way her eyes are larger than red-scrunchie Heather, the small section of smudged make-up on her cheek that fails to hide her freckles, the way her eyebrows rise in interest, and her straight, white teeth. He thinks about the lines of her eyes, the shadows that the Heathers forget to – or decide not to – cover up, and her dry, chapped lips. So beautiful and painfully human, with a soul that resists the taint the Heathers try to paint it with – he thinks, he thinks, he thinks it will be wonderful to be her friend. Just to know what she is like. Just for a smile.

His heart tightens in his chest when he sees her coming home. She grabs her pillow and screams into it. He jolts in surprise when she stands up and almost violently wrenches the curtains as far apart as possible after she finishes shrieking her throat raw, watches her yank the window open, and his breath stops in his chest. She leans as far out as she can, tilts her head back, and closes her eyes to enjoy the beautiful air today. He thinks he can see her heartbeat slowing down, turning into a soft melody, and Veronica bows her head down then shakes it. She doesn’t close her window door, but she grabs her pillow and starts _talking_ to it.

“Would you like to go to the Remington party, Veronica?” she says with a high-pitched, nasally voice, “I’ll ruin your life if you mess it up, _Veronica._ Ugh!” she throws the pillow to the wall and flops down onto her bed, her rest lasting all of a few seconds before she jumps up and marches over to her dear diary to start writing away. He watches her back, watches the way her shoulders move, takes in how animated and angry she is, her arm moving quickly with her hand, only for it to stop so she can bury both her hands in her hair and then drag them down to hide her face in her palms. She looks beautiful.

~~He needs to stop looking at her.~~

* * *

They run into each other at the Snappy Snack Shack, which is a genuine accident. He just wants to buy some snacks, get some microwave dinners, maybe a Mexican bottle of coke, then go back home and study. He doesn’t mean to run into Veronica, nor does he mean to surprise her when she is picking out corn nuts – but he calls out to her anyway. Talks to her and buys her a slushie, cherry like her lips, and she smiles bashfully and accepts it. He tells her about his dad but makes sure not to tell her that he is dead because of a gun to the head. She looks at his bike with awe after he explains how it is [was] a gift from his dad, bites her lower lip, but retreats when Heather shrieks her lungs out at him and she unnecessarily explains to him where she is going. _Remington,_ he repeats to himself. _Remington,_ he knows where that it. _Remington._ Just fifteen minutes away. He can get there right after Veronica and Heather.

_Remington._

He decides to climb up a ladder into a room that no one seems to want to go to – probably because it doesn’t have a bed, couch, or any other surfaces to have sex on – and he reaches into his coat just to have a feel of his gun just in case then searches the room for something to cover his face with. He finds a cap and a surprisingly clean medical mask, and he doesn’t think twice before putting them on. Even the entire place is dark, and his clothes only make him blend in with it there are still random streaks of light that can reveal his face. Neon lights dance along the hallways when he makes his way down to where the party is, witnesses Veronica underneath the red light and takes in the frustration and upset on her face. Heather is off giving a blowjob to some guy he doesn’t know – a college dude – even though she looks to be a second away from vomiting when the dude coerces her into it.

Heather isn’t his problem. Whatever regrets she is facing right now isn’t for him to care about – he already has someone else more important to worry more, and the frigid demon queen of high school just isn’t his problem. He watches her with disinterest for a little while longer, the darkness of the college lounge hides away his face, and he looks away just as Heather and the unnamed man are about to start going at it. He manoeuvres through the throng of bodies, ignoring some of the women that look at him with wide-eyed attraction and an unwanted interest in him because of his eccentricity, his height, his lean-body, his youth. The music is heavy with bass – trying to be post-modern or something, yet only succeeding in being heavy and unbearable, the noise pounding against his skull. He wonders if Veronica is enjoying herself. He hopes she isn’t. People are dancing, people are loud, and people are _everywhere._

He bumps into more than one couple making out with each other until he finally stumbles upon where Veronica is. There is a dim red light in the room and J.D slips in quietly while she seems to be busy staring at a matchstick. She lights it soon enough and he watches her, entranced and confused, as she hovers her hand near the flame only to yank it back because of the pain until she finally drops the matchstick and ends up setting her drink on fire. She throws it out the window in her panic and J.D takes that as an opportunity to slip even further into the busy room, sit in the corner, and observe for a few moments. The lights don’t cover every part of the room, but he can see her – see the way she shifts uncomfortably, jolts when one of the college boys drops down next to her and watches her face contort into ugly anger. She rejects him after standing up and he interrupts her speech and she trembles.

It is just when she is stomping out of the room that J.D does something impulsive – he pulls his gun out, aims at the college boy who sits up and glares at Veronica’s back, and squeezes the trigger. With a loud bang, the bullet lodges itself in his skull and he hears Veronica scream. He climbs out the window when she runs away, probably to get help, and he rides back home as quickly as possible. He rips the cap and medical mask off and throws them into the fireplace, lights a fire, and rubs his face clean while he tries to figure out what to eat tonight to have a good night’s rest.

* * *

He doesn’t sleep for long. There is a knock on his window which wakes him up, makes him wonder for a second if his father is out of his grave and is a zombie trying to kill him before he slowly sits up and stumbles over to raise his blinds.

On the other side of the glass is Veronica in her long-sleeved grey shirt and her overalls dress, her eyes puffy and red from tears, her lips trembling and still red with her lipstick, and she shakily waves at him. He stumbles on himself to open the window and let Veronica in, letting out a soft ‘oof’ as she falls into his arms and clings to him. He lets her sink onto him, hears her sob and feels wetness against his bare shoulder, and he sways her side to side while backing up to his bed. He lets her cry, settles her on his lap, and kisses her forehead. Over a few seconds, the heart-wrenching sound dies down and Veronica is quiet, soft in his arms.

He doesn’t want to forget how she feels or the fruity smell of her shampoo, how small she feels against him, or the look in her eyes when she pushes back to gaze up into him. “Hey, J.D,” she murmurs with a hoarse voice then she clears her throat, “I – I saw your bike, and I hoped…”

“If I wasn’t in this room, would you just have gone and knocked at every window of my house?” he drawls out and Veronica snorts. “To what do I owe the visit of a fair, tearful lady such as yourself? Especially during my time of undress.” it is at his words that Veronica’s expression blanks out and she looks down at his body. Her eyes widen for a fraction of a second before she looks back up at him and, defiantly, places her hands upon his pecs. She stares into him with challenge gleaming in her tired, reddened eyes, and J.D shakes his head. He doesn’t push her hands off and Veronica, despite her victorious smile, has a faint redness dusting across her cheeks. He locks his fingers together on the small of her back, tugs her closer, and Veronica holds his gaze when he arches a brow. “You still haven’t answered my question.” he points out and Veronica’s confidence dies down as quickly as he says it.

She looks away.

“I went to the Remington party, the one I mentioned at the Snappy Snack Shack?” she says softly, her voice a feather’s whisper, “someone… at the party got killed. Heather got me out of there as fast as possible; I guess she didn’t want to hang out near a murderer.” she lets her hands drop from his chest to instead embrace him, her face burying in his neck, and her breath is hot, heavy, against his skin. “It was – God, it was a dude who was harassing me – so I’m not… shit, J.D. I don’t know how to feel.” she exhales heavily, then lets out a huff of laughter. “You’ve got red on your chest,”

_‘and red on my hands.’_

“Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention. You can wipe it off, can’t you? You’re a big boy, I don’t have to do everything for you.” she says teasingly, even as her voice trembles and her words are uncertain, the sentence almost a question. He reaches down to wipe at where he thinks the lipstick is and brings up two red fingertips, much to the giggling amusement of Veronica. “… do your parents mind if I stay over the night?”

“I don’t see why not,” J.D says absently, “they’re both dead, after all.”

Veronica’s expression falls.

She stays the night regardless. When he wakes up, it is to the sight of her back retreating out of the window and across into her own home. She leaves an hour and a half before the day truly begins, and J.D throws himself into writing in his diary the moment she disappears off into her own room, draws the curtains, and takes a nap before her day starts. He writes down the feeling of her body, the way she curves into him, how she isn’t fit but she isn’t fat either, how he wants her weight to sink down onto his lap more and more. He writes down the smell of her shampoo, the red of her lips, the stain she leaves on his chest by accident. He writes and writes and writes, until his hand cramps.

Monday – oh, he wonders how Monday will go.

* * *

At the end of the day, Veronica is still a Heather. She is quieter at the start of the morning, though she mouths off as the day goes on. Heather-scrunchie is angrier today, lashing out, and things only get worse when someone brings up the murder at Remington. Veronica backs away from the ensuing explosion, retreats over to J.D who gives her a squinty-eyed stare and an amused smile, and sits next to him. The Heathers storm out of the cafeteria, Heather-scrunchie not ever turning to check for Veronica by her side, and J.D grins down at her to which she responds with an eye-roll exaggerated by the movement of her head. “That’ll make your eyes pop right on out,” J.D says while he shuffles closer to her, and Veronica leans against his right, “might not wanna do that if you want to continue living like a normal person.”

Veronica hums. “Are you free this Friday?”

He blinks.

“Yes, why?”

She looks up at him with a wide, daring smile; in spite of whatever it is she is feeling, she props up halfway onto his lap and shimmies closer. “There’s this nice little diner we could check out,” she says conversationally, “and I was wondering if you would like to go out with me that night.”

 

 

[ _Yes, yes yes yes yes._ He just needs to make sure she never learns that he is the killer at Remington. He just needs to make sure she never realizes what he will do for her.]

“I’d like that, when do you wanna go there?”

“Right after school. The Heathers are going to be busy with something else that Friday, and they didn’t invite me over.”

“It’s a date.”

Her smile is gorgeous as it spreads out on her face, lights her up like the burning sun, and J.D has to hold back the urge to kiss her then and there. He grins back at her.

 

~~He loves her, and God he hopes she never finds out how much.~~

**Author's Note:**

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> 
> If you're interested in finding me, I am in those links up above. Author's note is also available on my pillowfort.


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